


Coma White

by YoroiNoKyojin



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoroiNoKyojin/pseuds/YoroiNoKyojin
Summary: One-shot based on the song Coma White by Marilyn Manson. WARNING: INCLUDES SUICIDE, DRUG USE, AND LANGUAGE. DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU.Betty Cooper's fall from grace was abrupt and devastating. When she leaves Riverdale after a traumatic event, Jughead follows her only to find that things are much worse than he'd imagined.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Coma White

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this story includes very triggering things so PLEASE do not read if you’re sensitive to topics like drugs or suicide.

_ **COMA WHITE** _

When Betty Cooper had fallen from grace, it had been both abrupt and devastating.

Just a few weeks before her eighteenth birthday, Betty's father had broken out of prison and had come looking for not just her, but the entire family. They'd had no warning; they'd been completely ignorant to his arrival and when he had the chance, he'd killed her mother, Alice, and her sister Polly, who'd been visiting with her twins. It was very clear that Betty wasn't just affected by the event - it had turned her entire life upside down. Things would never be the same, and the dead look in her eyes told her friends that she knew it, had resigned to it. The babies had been taken into the system, put into foster homes shortly after the event occurred, and Betty was to be put into a foster home as well until she turned eighteen - but within a few days of the murders, the blonde was gone.

She'd packed her things, taken what money her mother had saved before the bank could take hold of all the assets, and she'd caught a bus out of town without a word to anyone.

He'd been following her for several days now.

Jughead Jones had not seen his girlfriend, Betty Cooper, for months now, but he had not given up on her. He wasn't even sure he could call her his girlfriend at this point, but he knew that he still loved her and wouldn't give up until he'd found her - and finally, he did. Being a Southside Serpent had its advantages; he'd learned after a few long months of searching and scouting that the blonde had been spotted across the state line, somewhere in Massachusetts. What she was doing there, he had no idea, but as soon as he found out her approximate location, he grabbed his things, gassed up his bike, and flew out of Riverdale like a bat out of hell.

In the few days he'd been in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, Jughead had learned that Betty was staying in a cheap motel (but had a tendency to hop from place to place, as if afraid of being caught), had been seen associating with many people who looked worse than thugs, and looked much thinner and paler than he'd ever seen her.

Every time he saw her come out of the motel room to exhange cash with a seedy-looking guy, Jughead fought the nearly overwhelming urge to run right up to them, knock the guy out, and take Betty away from this place. But if Jughead Jones knew Betty Cooper at all, "rescuing" her against her will would be the worst decision he could make. So he watched, gathered information, and waited.

And each day he died a little more inside.

It became abundantly clear to him that the once-perky blonde was heavily involved in drugs. Perhaps that's all she had to live for, anymore. He wished he could get it through her head that despite all of the terrible, immensely _fucked-up_ things that had happened, she still had her friends; she had Archie, Veronica, Cheryl. She had _him._

Jughead bade his time despite his quickly growing despair, agonizing over how and when to make his move... How to approach her without her giving him the cold shoulder. So when he saw her actually leaving motel property for the first time in days, he knew he had to follow her. Perhaps now was the time; this was his sign. So carefully, without arousing suspicion, he followed her all the way to a place called the Kirvin Park Reservoir; Betty had slowly approached an old bridge that sat atop the edge of the dam. On one side, glittering water and a timeless sunset; on the other, endless evergreen forestry that led down, down, down. Perhaps to water, perhaps not; he couldn't see from his vantage point. All he knew was that one wrong move on Betty's part and he'd never see her again... because she'd be dead.

His eyes were on her, watching her like a hawk as he parked his bike and followed her to the bridge. He was sure she knew he was there by this point; but when he climbed up onto the bridge and she finally turned her head to look at him, Jughead was left wheezing just as if he'd been punched in the gut.

Her eyes, those green eyes that had once been sparkling with life, with fire, with happiness and anger and sadness, were dead.

While he could understand it, considering all that had happened to her, it still devastated him. Betty had had her fair share of drama in Riverdale; but she'd had a mother who loved her and they were finally at peace after her father had been incarcerated. Despite her problems at home, she was still a very loved figure and had many friends, both at school and in the community... a community that embraced her while rejecting him and everything he stood for. A community that had spited both him, his father, and his very way of life many times over. She'd had a good life, with the exception of her fucked-up family history... but this was the event that had broken her. This was what had made her give up.

And it was ripping Jughead apart.

"Betty," he whispered, taking a few hesitant steps closer to her, afraid that she would turn tail like a frightened deer and take off.

She shifted backwards a little bit but otherwise remained still, just staring at him with that dead expression. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face was pale and gaunt, and the life was gone from her skin. Drained away. Jughead had been exposed to drugs plenty of times so he knew what the effects were, and he was pretty sure she was sober... and perhaps that was why she looked like she was already gone. Maybe the drugs had been the only thing keeping her afloat. A small, selfish part of him hated that she'd turned to drugs instead of the comfort of her friends. They would do anything for her - _he _would do anything for her, he thought miserably as he stared at her. "Betty, what are you doing here?" He finally managed to ask.

"Jug," was her whispered reply, and for the first time there was a shred of emotion on her otherwise dead visage. Her voice was soft, broken, and it devastated him to hear it; the pain visibly rippled down his spine, gnawing at his insides. Hearing his name from her lips like that...

His steps faltered for a moment but his gaze never moved from her. "Betty, please," Jughead croaked, his blue eyes full of silent pleas. _Come home. Let me help you. Please, Betty. _

She stared for a moment longer, the silence thick between them. Finally, she folded her arms over her chest - thin arms that looked more bone than muscle now. Gone was her healthy, cheerleading figure, replaced with something that looked haunting. "Why are you here, Jug...?"

"Why do you think?" the dark-haired teen countered with a trembling voice.

"You shouldn't have come," Betty said quietly. "I can handle myself."

Jughead was trying so, so hard to keep his emotions under control, but it was growing increasingly difficult - and when she spoke again... something inside of him snapped. "You can handle it, huh...?" he whispered, his voice now trembling not with fear, but with rage...

Silence. And suddenly: "LOOK AT YOURSELF!" he screamed, a wild hand gesturing towards her. She didn't flinch, didn't even blink, simply stared with those dead, dead eyes. Tears were pricking the corners of his own bloodshot hues now, threatening to spill over his cheeks, and in his frustration, Jughead moved a hand up to his hair, fingers grasping his hat. He tugged at it and pulled it off, throwing it viciously to the ground and turning away to pace. In his pacing, he kept his gaze firmly on the ground, unable to look at the hollow shell that was once his girlfriend. "Drugs?" he demanded, hands on his hips as he continued to take step after step. "Running away is your answer? Abandoning the people who love you? Doing DRUGS? THAT is your way of handling yourself?!"

He finally stopped pacing long enough to lift his eyes to meet hers; and the emotion in those once-vibrant green depths made him ache so badly he found himself wheezing once more. A heavy breath left him and he felt a hot tear slip down his cheek, running into the corner of his mouth; wiping at it hastily, Jughead fixed the blonde with a resentful glare. "What can I do, Betty?" he demanded, throwing his hands up. "How can I help? What will get you to come back to Riverdale with me? I can't... I can't do this anymore! Not knowing where you are or if you're alive. I need you with me!"

"I'm never going back there," Betty whispered for the first time in several minutes.

Jughead advanced on her, stopping only two steps away, and while she flinched slightly, she didn't make a move to retreat. He was pleading with her, now. "Betty, I know terrible... fucked-up things happened... I know Riverdale is chock-full of bad memories... But there are people there, people who would do anything for you. Won't you try? Try to let us help you make it through this...?"

The blonde stared at him for a long moment before looking away, to her right. Her eyes roamed over the vast forestry, eventually drifting to the chasm far down below. Jughead watched her, not liking the way she stared over the edge; was she seriously considering...? No. She couldn't be. That was ludicrous.

Then again, if he'd been asked half a year ago about Betty Cooper doing hard drugs, he would've said that was ludicrous, too.

"We love you, Betty," Jugehad continued, taking another step towards her. He was close enough to touch her now; and God, it was hard to fight the urge to. He wanted to feel her in his arms again; to hear her laugh or see her smile. He wanted Betty Cooper back. He'd sell his own soul for her. "We miss you and we'd all do anything to help you. We love you." He moved just a little closer, his eyes wandering her face. Still she looked down, down into the darkness below. "... _I_ love you," he finished, his voice lowering to just above a whisper.

Finally, she turned her head to lock eyes with him and his breath caught. So, so green. So beautiful. So... dead. Like she'd already jumped. "Sometimes that isn't enough," she murmured, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

"Let it BE enough!" Jughead pleaded desperately, his arms reaching now to take her by the shoulders. He stared at her with bulging eyes before doing the only thing he knew left to do: he leaned in and crushed her mouth with his own, one hand moving from her shoulder to lace his fingers through her blonde hair. He could feel the coldness of her lips and the stale tang of blood in her mouth; from the extended drug usage, no doubt. It wasn't the same. He wasn't kissing the Betty Cooper that he knew and loved, but he continued on, hoping against hope that he could breathe life back into her. His tongue ran along hers, his eyes pressed shut, his body tense and warm against hers. _Come back, Betty... come back._

But when he pulled away to gauge her expression, he found no difference.

Betty slowly pulled away from him, taking one step back, then two. He watched her like a hawk, his arms poised to grab her if needed; but when he noticed the single tear rolling down her cheek, and the glassiness of her green eyes, his arms dropped and he gaped at her.

She was crying silently, her lips pressed into a thin line. There was no joy, no anger; only sadness and regret. He could feel the tears coming again, thick and hot and painful, and they rolled down his face and into his mouth or off his chin. "I love you, Jughead," she whispered. His eyes narrowed slightly as she took a step to the right. No. _No. _She wouldn't.

"Then please, come - "

Time moved in slow motion for Jughead Jones.

His plea was interrupted. While still gazing at him, the blonde took one step to the side, and purposely fell over the short ledge of the bridge. He reached out to grab her, but caught only air; and as he scrambled to the short railing and leaned over it, he could see her falling, down, down, down. He couldn't hear himself screaming because his ears were ringing violently, but he could feel it in his throat as the screams ripped from it viciously. He could see the sickening impact of her body on the ground far below through the tears that were blurring his vision and he screamed, he just screamed until he could taste the blood in his mouth. His hands dug so hard into the ledge that his knuckles turned white and his nails cracked; and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing except wail and scream and wish that he'd been fast enough.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

_Gone._

_She was gone._

_She was fucking gone._

_Forever._

_Betty was gone. She'd thrown herself over a bridge._

_And for a moment, he was dead set on joining her._

_"Jug."_

_He could see her face; the rosy lips, the beautiful evergreen eyes, the silky blonde hair. That gentle smile. She was smiling at him. Her lips parted once more. "Jug..."_

_Gratitude. That was the emotion that washed over him as he moved toward her, his arms outstretched. He fully intended to wrap those arms around her and never let go, never again. He would hold her until the end of time, because he _couldn't_ and _wouldn't _lose her. Yet no matter how many steps he took forward, she always seemed to hover just out of reach and he couldn't figure out why. "Why are you backing away?" he questioned with a frown._

_"Jug, wake up," she said softly, still smiling._

_His brows furrowed and his blue eyes narrowed. What? Wake up? "I'm right here," he responded, growing frustrated. He tried to reach for her again, but she was untouchable._

_"JUG!"_

His eyes flew open and he sat up abruptly, feeling an ache tingle through his whole body. He felt like he'd gotten hit by a truck. Jughead looked around wildly to find his father staring at him with intense hazel eyes, a strong hand grasping his shoulder. Seeing F.P.'s face seemed to ground the teen slightly and he relaxed just a tad, settling back into he hospital bed. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the hell happened, but all that came out was a croak, followed by a searing pain in the back of his throat.

"Don't try to talk, Jug, just listen," F.P. said, settling down in the chair by the bed and frowning. As Jughead stared at his father, he could see the stress lines on his face and the grim frown on his lips. F.P. had been worried, very worried. The man leaned forward in his chair, lips pursed, and continued: "Your voice is shot. Doctors said you must've screamed so hard and so loud that you nearly shattered your vocal chords. It'll be a good while before you can talk properly again; so good job. You've fucked yourself up."

Jug glanced away. F.P. didn't stop in his speech. "They've, uh, retrieved Betty's body and it's been left up to the Blossoms to decide the details of her funeral, since they're the closest living relatives. Once we all found out where you'd gone, we followed you. Took forever to locate you but we finally found you on some bridge. You were unconscious and pretty messed up." The older man clasped his hands together and stared down at them; it was clear he was pissed; but that was because he'd been worried sick. Jughead could see it all over his face. "Why the fuck did you go alone, Jug?"

Jughead again opened his mouth to answer but found that he couldn't. F.P. shook his head. "Rhetorical question. We'll talk about it another time." With a sigh, he sat back in the chair. "Listen... she is gone. I... I'm sorry, Jug. I really am. I know how much she meant to you. To all of us. I'm so sorry."

All the emotions from before came rushing back to the teen and he could feel hot and angry tears sting the corners of his eyes. Jughead stared at the ceiling, trying to get rid of it. All of it. His emotions, the pain. He'd loved her with every fiber of his being; he'd tried everything he could to protect her, to save her, to help her. And none of it was enough. It hadn't been enough to stop her from doing what she'd done. Why couldn't he just be numb? Why couldn't his injuries have put him in a coma or something, so he wouldn't have to wake up and feel all of this pain...? He had to face the facts and the facts alone were more than he could bear.

Betty was gone.

And he wished he was gone, too.


End file.
